Chapter 17
Nadia
I was in hell.
Somehow I’d forgotten to shut the curtains last night so that molten ball of lava they called the sun was boring its way through my eyelids.
Rolling over with a groan, it wasn’t sheets I felt pressed against my body, but my work clothes?
Opening my eyes a crack, then instantly regretting it, I caught the vague outline of my pants and blouse, but with consciousness came pain.
“Goddess…” I hissed, falling out of bed rather than swinging my legs over the side and then I may or may not have commando crawled over to my bathroom before slamming the door shut.
The subsequent darkness was welcome and a little disorientating.
Probably because I was lurching drunkenly with every step towards the bathroom sink.
Drunkenly…
Shit.
Christian blathering on about stuff I didn’t care about.
Group chats. Stay in the bar. A whole rugby team of hot young university students sweeping me up in their midst to have shots with them because they’d won their game or something.
My hand slapped down on the light switch by the mirror.
As the light flickered on, I gripped the sink, leaning over just in time for it to illuminate my face.
Makeup smeared, eyes bloodshot, I looked a fucking mess.
Because I had a massive hangover.
“Why…?” I whined as I walked over to the shower.
Getting my clothes off had somehow turned into a wrestling match, but in the end I emerged victorious. My head ached so much my teeth ground together as I stepped under the water.
During my shower, it was the usual litany of regret.
Never again. Why did I do this to myself?
What sacrifices do I need to make to dark gods to stop my head from hurting?
At least I wasn’t vomiting. Instead, it was that bone-deep need for something disgustingly greasy that got me towelling myself off.
Only to remember my car was still in the city.
Grey telling me to stay where I was. The three of them walking in, catching me chugging a beer with those rugby guys.
Tex carrying me bodily out of the bar. Me telling the whole damn pub about the different alphas.
Their silver eyes, watching my every movement as I made a fool out of myself, had me pressing my head against the wall.
The cool tiles were a welcome thing, but painkillers would be better.
I dug around in the drawers under the sink, found some, and popped a couple with a mouthful of water from the tap.
A pair of comfy sweats on, I padded out into the lounge room to couch rot, when a key turned in my door.
I looked around wildly for a weapon, settling for an umbrella sitting propped against the hall table, and I was wielding it like a baseball bat when the door swung open.
To reveal Tex standing there in my doorway, clutching a paper McDonald’s bag.
His eyes went wide, taking in me, the umbrella and my stance, then he held the bag up like it was a shield.
“I brought you some McMuffins for breakfast. After a hard night on the turps, I usually want something greasy to wash it down with.”
“Goddess…” I sighed. “Are all alphas as perfect as you? Because that is exactly what I wanted.” He seemed inordinately pleased by that. “Let me grab you some cash.”
“No need.” The man had become very acquainted with the most intimate parts of me, so why did my whole-body jolt when a hand settled on the base of my spine? Somehow he ended up steering me into my own lounge room. “Now, did you want plates or are we going to eat out of the wrappers like savages?”
“Savages don’t have to do dishes later,” I said, sinking down onto the couch, only for him to sit close enough that our knees touched. “So wrapper it is.”
“Well, I got you one of everything so—”
“Hotcakes!” My hands shot out, but I stopped myself from grabbing the box. “Unless you want them. I mean you saved me from the tender embrace of an entire university rugby team. They were talking karaoke and everything, so if they’re your favourite—?”
“You take them.” The cardboard container was set in front of me, and I took a deep breath in.
Usually they were too soft, too sweet, and too doughy, but right now that would soak up any leftover alcohol in my system.
When I glanced up at Tex, he grabbed a couple of bacon McMuffins and unwrapped them, forming an impressive stack that was dwarfed by his hands. “That syrup is sickly.”
“Usually I’d agree but mm…”
I took a mouthful, then let out a hum of pleasure, only to hear the sound of the muffins dropping back into their wrappers.
With a blink, I saw that Tex was staring.
The way he could shift from a nice guy to something feral was frankly hot.
Maybe it was those moon silver eyes, or perhaps it was his complete focus, taking every inch of me in, right before his hand shot out.
I froze as a thumb brushed across my chin and then he stuck it in his mouth, licking away the syrup.
“Huh,” he rumbled. “Maybe it’s not too sweet after all.”
Part of me wanted to tear my sweatshirt up and over my head and pour syrup over my whole body.
Perhaps because all of a sudden, I was painfully aware of the way the soft material brushed against my skin.
Ask for what you wanted, that was the mission, right?
But at some point, that just devolves into pointless selfishness.
Dragging my attention back to the hotcakes, I focussed on slicing them up and then eating them.
By the sounds coming from Tex, he was doing the same, but after a moment, our wrappers were balled up, the box and the utensils packed away, leaving an awkward silence.
“So—”
“Did—?”
His broad grin had me slumping back against the couch.
“I was going to say thank you for picking me up last night,” I said finally. “And the Macca’s. When I am feeling better, I totally owe you a home-cooked dinner or something. Need your car detailed? Your garden beds weeded or something?”
He leaned back as well, resting his head on the arm propped up against the couch, and wasn’t that a sight? Instead of a plaid shirt, he had on an old cotton t-shirt that I just knew would be soft to the touch.
Which got me thinking.
Tex and his pack had so generously offered to help me out with my intimacy problem. Maybe I needed to do the same? Make him the focus, I thought, as my eyes traced the broad shape of his shoulders. Give him all the pleasure. I could slip to my knees and—
“So what did you have planned for today?” he said, completely oblivious to my thought process.
“Ahh…” Say it, I thought. Offer to suck his dick or something, but apparently I still had work to do when it came to expressing myself.
“Couch rotting.” My hands wrapped around the remote, not his dick, and brandished it.
“There’s this new hockey romance TV show on and I’ve been meaning to watch it. ”
“This the one where the guys kiss the other guy or one where they kiss the girl?” he asked with a smile.
“Kiss the girl,” I replied, turning on the TV. “I saw the one where the guys kiss the other guy ages ago, obviously.”
“Alright then.”
Sitting and watching a silly romantic comedy would’ve had most guys of my acquaintance making a run for the door, but instead an arm went around my shoulders. How the hell was I being tucked into this man’s side right now?
“So are the hockey players alphas?” he asked as he plucked the remote from my grip and started scrolling through the listings. “I bet they are. Anyone big enough and tough enough to play ice hockey would have to be an alpha.”
“Nope, just a bunch of beta friends.” Snatching it back, I used the search bar to look up the title, then clicked on the thumbnail. The screen filled with the show logo, but then I held up the remote. “You don’t have to sit here and rot with me.”
“If I go home, Grey will have me out in the garden sorting out the grass, so trust me, hockey players kissing a girl sounds a lot better than that,” he replied.
“So when I hit play,” I said, “there’s no talking, no tapping out, no phones until we get to the end. Couch rotting is serious business.” He pulled out a phone and made a show of turning it off, then set it on the coffee table. “Well, OK then.”
With a click, the screen transformed, the sounds of the theme song playing through the speakers, but I barely registered it.
I was about to watch a pack of betas and their girl fall in love on the screen, but right now, I was all too aware of the heavy arm pinning me against Tex’s side.
I wanted to press my head into his chest, breathe him in as I watched my show, maybe even feel him play with my hair a little.
I wanted the girlfriend treatment, and for just one morning, I could pretend that’s what this was.